Casual Afterparty: The Guys' Banter
"Like hell you're sleepy? Go-gang nearly choked to death laughing when he saw you calling out bullshit in that interview."
Bong Hyeoksu's words had Tak Go-gang cackling away.
"Hyung, did you see the reporters' faces? I was right there listening, and I had to duck my head so the camera wouldn't catch me cracking up."
Kim Jinu chimed in from the side.
"But man, it felt good inside. What good does it do yapping about tactics among ourselves? The second you nailed it, they all shut their traps."
I grabbed a slice of pizza and replied indifferently.
"The reporters didn't even seem that shocked anymore. Why's everyone so hyped?"
"Fair enough. But that header with the bandage on—honestly, did you think it'd go in?"
With Bong Hyeoksu's question, the talk naturally shifted to dissecting every moment of the match.
"It just came flying at me, so I threw myself at it. Lucky it went in."
"Whoa, hyung, I thought your head was gonna burst open again for sure. Those Iraq defenders kept targeting your bandaged side—I was getting dizzy just watching."
At Kim Jinu's words, Tak Go-gang smacked my shoulder.
"That's why we totally lost it when you went off, hyung. Even Hyeoksu hyung's face was priceless."
Bong Hyeoksu let out a hollow chuckle, chewing on a pizza crust.
"Yeah, the guys got all tense, and with you out, our build-up was completely fucked. The ball wasn't going where it should—just kept flowing backward. Felt suffocating."
That's camaraderie for you. Guys who've bled through the trenches together instinctively know who's got their back—who's shooting from behind, who's shielding from the side.
"You felt it too, hyung? I was dying out in midfield trying to penetrate, but the ball kept drifting toward Iraq. Nearly lost my mind. The second you came back and I threaded that diagonal pass, I was like, alive."
I added flatly to Tak Go-gang's grumbling.
"Football's half momentum anyway. And sure, outsiders bitch about no tactics, but if the guy circulating the ball gets scared of one forward pass and just back-passes nonstop, no tactic works."
"Exactly. Dribbling's all about advancing."
Bong Hyeoksu eyed my bandaged head and continued.
"Still, Rion, you really busted your ass today."
"Wasn't just me—the whole team's effort."
We reminisced about the first half's frustrating flow, the regret of conceding, and that hopeless void when I was off. Unlike the online world of blame and curses, this place brimmed with the relief and brotherhood only victors could savor.
Our chat showed no signs of stopping. The lounge table was littered with cooling pizza scraps and empty cola cans.
I glanced at the empty seat beside me and asked.
"Where the hell's that punk Junyoung? Did he go take a shit? Not like he's constipated."
The maknae Kim Jinu, fiddling with a cola can, smirked.
"Oh, Junyoung hyung stepped out to call his girlfriend. Said he hadn't talked to her once since the match ended—looked like he was dying."
I burst out laughing at the absurdity.
"Whipped as fuck. Aigoo. That beast of a physique, fidgeting like a love-struck puppy over one call."
Tak Go-gang, quietly sipping cola nearby, couldn't hold it and spat it out with a pffft!.
"Hyung! Gross!"
Kim Jinu shrieked, grabbing tissues, while Go-gang coughed through his nose, cola bubbling out, but kept laughing uncontrollably.
"No, cough! Didn't you see Junyoung hyung's eyes go earthquake-mode when his phone buzzed in the mixed zone? I thought it was an Iraqi counter coming."
"That guy's form peaks when he's single."
At my words, Bong Hyeoksu leaned back with a disbelieving chuckle.
"Junyoung's consistent, alright. Last away trip, three a.m. from jet lag, and he's whispering in the hallway instead of sleeping. I thought it was a ghost or some shit, went out, and there he is cooing, 'I miss you too~'."
"Ugh, hyung, spare us during late-night snacks."
Kim Jinu shuddered, and the lounge erupted in laughter again. Outsiders might think we're debating profound football philosophy, but nah—this is it: guys who just headbutted their brains out, bullshitting about love lives or roasting teammates.
I rubbed my throbbing forehead and sank deeper into the sofa.
"Still, some guys like Junyoung are whipped. Right?"
"True. If it was all alpha males like you telling reporters to shut their bullshit, our team's daily life would be a warzone."
At Tak Go-gang's deadpan jab, I shoved the last pizza crust into his mouth.
Paju's dawn warmed with our pointless jokes. At least in here, we're just regular dudes who love kicking a ball and our bros.
We were mid-roar when Junyoung finally slunk back from his call, face screaming I get all the love.
I didn't miss a beat.
"Aww, look, lovebird's back. Lovebird incoming."
Before I finished, he snatched an empty chicken box from the table and hurled it at me.
"Hey!"
The box whooshed over my head. I ducked a bit, but he wasn't aiming to hit— it smacked the wall and flopped pathetically. He plopped down next to me, grumbling.
"You losers need girlfriends. Wasting your prime youth."
I shot back instantly.
"Hyeoksu hyung'd be committing adultery."
"...!"
Dead silence. Junyoung's eyes bulged as he flailed in panic.
"No, wait! That's not what I—!"
Hyeoksu hyung was a married family man. Junyoung gawked at me like I was insane.
"You psycho. How do you twist it like that? People these days..."
His aggrieved face set Go-gang and Jinu howling. Bong Hyeoksu shook his head with a baffled laugh. As things calmed, I asked Hyeoksu hyung something I'd always wondered.
"Hyung, does marriage really change things? How's it feel?"
He pondered my serious question.
"Dunno. Responsibility's different. Used to be just me—if I thrived, done. Now, if I falter, my family's shaken too. But coming home to someone waiting? Bigger boost than you'd think."
As hyung's straightforward marriage talk wrapped, the arrow turned to me.
"What about you? Seeing anyone?"
Bong Hyeoksu's question made me pause.
Even if I was, I ain't spilling here...>
The lounge was all dudes, but no way was I airing my private life. I kept a straight face.
"Nah, not yet. Too busy with football."
Junyoung jumped in like he'd been waiting.
"Bullshit. No one's that dry—want me to hook you up? Got some cute ones around."
I smirked and shut him down.
"Look at you, cocky 'cause you bagged an announcer. Worry about yourself."
My zinger sent the guys into hysterics again; Junyoung flushed beet-red, chugging cola. Outsiders hype me as bandaged ace or trash-talker, but this is the real vibe. The spotlight naturally hit Tak Go-gang, quietly nursing his cola.
"Yo, Go-gang. You got one?"
He hesitated, lips twitching—uncharacteristically flustered.
"Huh? Check this guy out. What's up?"
I narrowed my eyes, pressing; Jinu perked up.
"Hyung, for real? Epic. Why hide it from us?"
Tak Go-gang resisted our stares forever before barely nodding. Junyoung pounded the sofa in glee.
"See? Another lovebird! Ganging up on me like I'm the only one."
I snorted.
"Go-gang's low-key. Doesn't broadcast 'I love you' like some neighborhood crier. Classy difference."
"Whatever! Go-gang, older or younger? Spill that."
Go-gang scratched his head, mumbling.
"...Older."
"Ooooh—!"
A ripple of cheers filled the lounge. Junyoung cackled like it was his win; Bong Hyeoksu watched us fondly. The pitch's brutality vanished, replaced by hours of dumb love talk. No matter how loud the outside noise shaking us, with these guys, we'd endure—some baseless gut feeling.